


along the creek, beside the meadow

by bymoonlight



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Historical, Breeding, Class Differences, Feminization, Historical Inaccuracy, Kenma and Kuroo are older and of age by the end, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Mutual Pining, Outdoor Sex, Self-Lubrication, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-09-01 06:56:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20254006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bymoonlight/pseuds/bymoonlight
Summary: As the omega son of a high-born family, Kenma is expected to marry someone proper. But even so, he can't help his curiosity when a new alpha moves into town.Set during a nebulous time.





	1. I.

Kenma had first noticed the farmhand’s son during an afternoon of group needlework held at Shouyou’s farm. Him and the other highborn omegas sat and sewed beneath a willowy tree near the berry fields. The afternoon sky was spotted with cotton clouds and a soft breeze rustled the long grass around them, making the summer heat a tad more bearable.

Kenma sat in the shade, his canvas looking forlorn on his lap. He had always been careless with his embroidery, the nip and follow through of the needle too boresome and dull for him. He much preferred the company of an adventure book to pass the time by – but his mother had insisted he keep up with the other omegas of his age, lest he allow himself to fall into a hermit state.

His eyes wandered the thick brush of the berry fields as the workers picked each one with a flourish of a wrist, their sunhats beating back the harsh sun. In the distance, a couple of rowdy alpha boys were wrestling in the sparse forest at the edges of the field. Their whoops and hollers were distant, their figures barely visible.

Koushi, sat to the right of Kenma, sucked in his teeth at that.

“They’re so carefree,” Koushi tsked, the smile on the older omega’s face betraying his words.

His favorite suitor was amongst the alphas – Daichi Sawamura. Koushi and all the rest were still too young to have had a heat but even so, the young alphas around town had taken notice of him. Their heads turning whenever he visited the town square, eyes lingering on the dove grey hair that curled softly around the nape of his neck where he was still unblemished, unclaimed.

But everyone knew he was sweet on Daichi, their budding courtship a hot topic of gossip in town.

Kenma couldn’t imagine having already met his intended husband at such an age, barely fifteen with not even a modicum of interest in the more brutish sex. Alphas seemed all the same, with heavy limbs and an overbearing musk that made Kenma crinkle his nose in disdain. They were too loud, thumping all over the town, boisterous and brazen simply because of the knot between their legs.

The alphas seemed to have paused their wrestling, laughing jovially as they made their way towards the willow tree. Sweat beaded their tanned skin, their trousers mottled with flecks of dirt. Kenma picked up his needle and canvas, feigning busy work as the alphas neared.

He knew most of them, having grown up in a small town where polite society was a tight-knit circle. Many of their parents were regular attendees of his parents’ charity events and afternoon teas. He had even spent a few holidays with those particularly close to his family – weekends watching theatre in the city or along the white beaches of the coast in one of their rustic summer homes.

Bokuto, one of the older alphas, bowed in exaggeration.

“My ladies,” he spoke coquettishly but with an impish grin. It earned him a quick swat to the back of his head by Daichi.

“Do you mind if we joined you for a bit?” Daichi asked, ever the gentleman. He wiped the sweat from his brow and smiled; it seemed the alphas wanted reprieve from the sun, and what better company than a few pretty omegas?

Shouyou nodded happily, gesturing to the open space near them. “We have snacks too!” he proffered, holding out a tin of honeyed biscuits as the alphas made themselves comfortable in the grass. 

Kenma pursed his lips, watching as the tin was passed around. He had baked those biscuits for his _friends_ – but what’s done was done. It wouldn’t be polite to rescind the offer, and even so, most of the alphas were already happily gobbling up the treats.

A dark-haired alpha was the last to grab a biscuit, offering the empty tin back to Shouyou. He took a generous bite and groaned, deep and throaty.

“These are good,” he said, crumbs flecked on the side of his mouth. “Who made them?”

Shouyou grinned, nodding to Kenma.

“Kenma made the biscuits. He’s really good at baking but awful at cooking,” he chirped.

Kenma huffed indignantly. “Am not.”

He eyed the unfamiliar alpha. He was long-limbed and gangly, tall for his age. His hair was unruly, with tufts sticking out every which way and his jawline sharp; a distinct boyish handsomeness to him. The alpha’s eyes shined with mirth at the exchange. Finishing off the last of the biscuit, he wiped his hands clean of any crumbs.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” the alpha said, extending a hand to Kenma. “Name’s Tetsu but my friends call me Kuro.”

Kenma placed his needlework in his lap and shook Kuro’s rough-hewn hand. The touch lingered for a moment longer, Kenma gazing at Kuro. He was more bronzed than the other boys, his hands rougher as well – with calluses where Kenma’s was soft, formed from skin breaking open and blistering over again.

How curious.

Kenma couldn’t help himself, even long after the group of alphas had departed. As Shouyou walked him half way home, a woven basket with raspberries tucked under Kenma’s arm as a departing gift. Shouyou’s family owned the biggest farm in the region and their families had had close ties for generations, since the first settlers had founded the town. Kenma’s great-something-or-rather grand uncle had been responsible for much of the construction downtown and subsequently, his posterity had accumulated all of his wealth well after his death.

“I’ve never seen that alpha before,” Kenma said, staring off into the pink and orange streaked sky. The sun was setting and mother always wanted him home before dark. Kenma picked up his feet, hoping to avoid a scolding if he could.

“You mean Kuro?” Shouyou shrugged. “He’s new to town. His family just moved here a few weeks ago and his father works as a farmhand for my family. Sometimes he helps his dad in the fields because he’s got an achy back. Kuro’s really nice and gets along with everyone too.”

Kenma nodded, processing the new information.

It made sense.

Kuro helped his father out in the fields, which would explain the effects of the hard labor upon his body. He seemed genial enough, and obviously got on well with the other young alphas. But his family was low-brow, common. Most of his kind tended to steer clear of Kenma’s family and the like, thinking them uppity and pompous. But maybe it didn’t matter much if it was simply the young alphas hanging around.

Kenma clutched the basket under his arm and murmured every now and then as Shouyou filled the mid-summer’s evening with his musings, the whir of insects around them a pleasant, static noise.

* * *

Kenma never liked the winter.

Particularly, he didn’t like the way the chilled temperatures forced him to wear a minimum of three layers, wrapped around his body to stave off shivers. He hated how it made him sweat, the way his outer clothes made him feel lumbering and bulky – it truly was a pain to disrobe once he was out of the chilled air. It couldn’t be helped though, since he was such a small slip of a thing and easily susceptible to fever.

He also hated the snow drifts that covered his family’s manor, making it hard to shovel out the long-winding pathway. His home was already a few miles away from town, but the snow made it that much harder to escape the bleak drafts of his house. It made him both stir crazy and yet reluctant to leave.

The months passed with nothing but private tutors to waste away the afternoons. The lessons were usually held in someone’s parlor room, the omegas gathered there to learn whatever etiquette lesson was planned for the day. Kenma found the lessons monotonous but considered it part of the routine humdrum of his life.

Oft times, he found himself daydreaming during these afternoons, his mind far, far away. Kenma’s most visited memories were of summer days beside the secret creek he had found as a child. It was located in the quiet forest beside the pathway to town. The creek was his favorite hideaway – in the summers, if Kenma was lucky – he would slip out early and while away the time in the dense forest where not a soul could find him. To his knowledge, he was the only one who knew of the creek.

Untouched by humans, it was a beautiful place with lush green grass near the banks of a lazy stream. It was a good reading spot, shaded by the surrounding woods and plenty of light streaming through where the foliage was sparse. Kenma’s favorite thing to do was pack a basket of bread, cheese, and a thermos of tea. He’d snack while dipping his toes into the creek and a book in hand. Sometimes he’d sleep too, curled into himself with perhaps a blanket to cushion his head.

He thought fondly of these afternoons. And he thought of his family, and his friends, and the townsfolk. And for some odd reason, he thought of that dark-haired alpha as well.

Kuro, was it?

Kenma would see him around town but at a distance, fooling around with the other alphas. He seemed to be in a perpetually good mood, most often sporting a lazy grin. His voice was loud and resounding and could be heard a block away whenever he gave a ruckus laugh, perhaps at a joke Bokuto had made. And the alpha had grown as well.

Shooting up a good four inches, he now towered over most of the townsfolk, only second tallest to Lev. Kuro remained lean but working with his father had helped fill him out, broadening his once thin shoulders and cording his arms with muscle. He wasn’t even done growing, but he was already a sturdy alpha. Strong and resourceful, he would make a good mate.

Kenma couldn’t help it when his eyes would wander whilst out in town, searching for a tall figure with wild, black hair and sharp eyes. Most of the time, his search was fruitless and he’d only let himself linger in his disappointment for a few moments before moving on, returning his attention to his friends.

But sometimes…

Sometimes Kuro would be there, perhaps turning the corner, handsomely wrapped in a wool coat and a red scarf around his neck. He’d be carrying a plain brown sack filled with cheap cuts of meat bought from the butcher. Or he’d picked up a few bottles of milk, boots heavy against the pavement as he made his way home.

Kenma could always feel himself warm at the visage of the alpha but knew he was being absurd. This clearly wasn’t love, more of a silly infatuation. He had barely even spoke to the boy.

But Kenma allowed himself to wonder, just for a moment as Kuro met his gaze, that maybe the alpha was searching for him as well.


	2. II.

Kenma sat by the edge of the great clawed-footed tub of his en suite. He turned the knobs to the spout, fiddling with them and running his fingers through the guzzling water until he could find a suitable temperature. The water gurgled from the basin, a growing pool of warmth that ebbed and flowed towards the edges of the porcelain tub. Kenma waited until it was half way filled before divesting himself of his robe and reaching for the bottle of oil he always kept near. He lazily poured half of it in, the liquid fragrance splashing into the bath. It was probably a bit too much, but he enjoyed the subtle notes of peony and the soft film it left on his skin. 

Carefully, Kenma stepped into the water, submerging his tired body and letting the warmth wash over him. His blond hair floated in tendrils and he combed his fingers through with a sigh. Tonight, he had forgotten to pin up his long mane. He often forgot how long it had grown, gone neglected over the winter months. He didn’t care enough to cut it, the blond locks tumbling well passed his shoulders now that the year was just on the precipice of spring.

Soon the frozen earth would soften and become fruitful once more, bubbling from the soil with rooted vegetables for stew and fresh berries to fill his stomach. Kenma smiled in longing, slipping lower into the tub until the crown of his head was submerged. Even in his sixteenth year, stretched from head to toe, he could barely reach both ends of the bathtub. He was either too petite or the tub was too grand – really, he was only second shortest to Shouyou.

After a long soak, Kenma carefully lathered his body with a bar of honeyed soap bought from one of his favorite stores in town, filled with all sorts of wonderful bric-a-brac. The storefront was rather nondescript, with a deep mahogany porch and white glass panes with a "welcome" sign pinned at the top. But inside, the polished shelves were filled with endless things to buy; handmade tallow soaps and ointments to the right, a bit of tobacco on one shelf and tins of coffee beans to grind on the other. Powders lay untouched in their compact, small rounds of rouge stacked together, and tubes filled with pigments of pink and red for the lips. Kenma's mother would have had a fit if he ever brought any of that home, admonishing that a painted face was only fit for a Jezebel.

But Kenma's favorite part was simply being in town. He yearned for the days that turned long with sunlight and the fragrant winds that blew through the cobbled streets. The townsfolk would be in more lively spirits and although Kenma didn't often talk to those he wasn't acquainted with, he enjoyed people-watching and seeing them go about their days.

The little omega washed and toweled himself off, humming a small tune as he readied himself for bed.

* * *

The succeeding days were much warmer. The summer solstice was still far and away but there was no denying that winter had passed. No longer blanketed with white snow, the ground had thawed and the air felt lighter. Animals awoke from their burrow and slumbers, filling the town's woods with sounds of life. The nights were still chilly, but that was nothing a good, thick shawl couldn't fix. 

Kenma was out on an errand, fetching some fresh cream and a wedge of hard cheese for supper that night. Years before, he had argued for the freedom to – convincing his mother and father that he was capable enough to venture out alone, insisting upon his twelfth birthday that he could go in place of one of the maids. Even if it was only for a few days a week, he longed to be out of the stuffy manor with its looming terraces and opulent rugs and curtains that always seemed to need a good dusting. His father didn't really care, but mother was another story. 

She had whinged about the whole ordeal, lamenting his chastity and droning on about rogue alphas that would steal him away. Kenma had felt his very life energy drain from the absurdity of it all. He never understood how her and father had ended up together – on paper of course, they were both pristine. Aristocrats hailing from lines of blue blood. And they undeniably looked handsome together as well, with father and his brood-sloping shoulders and patrician jaw, and mother with her delicate pale skin and heart-shaped face. 

And yet, all that beauty couldn't compensate for being an utter martinet – meddlesome and obsessed with propriety. They had gone back and forth for days over the topic, Kenma speaking in a level-toned voice while mother pretended to have fainting spells at the thought of her darling omega son being whisked away. It was only when Kenma had broached the topic of health that she had listened.

True, it was an excuse but Kenma thought it was on justifiable grounds. He reasoned that fresh air would do his body good and that weekly exercise was a necessity, lest his body become doughy and his skin lack luster. Really, he just wanted an excuse to be away from the estate but his mother had pursed her lips at that, and Kenma knew he had struck a nerve.

Kenma was an only child – birthing him had been a hard ordeal on his mother's body and had left her bereft. Her womb could no longer quicken with child, subsequently leaving Kenma the only heir. This meant appearances were very important – how else would Kenma attract an adequate suitor to run the manor if he did not look the part of a suitable bride?

Mother’s episode had soon ended and she’d relented.

Kenma cherished the small tokens of peace granted to him on these trips to town. He didn’t care much for horses and the carriage was too much of an ordeal to always get readied and have a driver accompany him. He also abhorred the attention it brought him and the town was a little less than an hour away, so he often choose to walk.

The young omega had made it into town by early afternoon that day, gone into his favorite store with a coin purse in hand. He nodded to the store clerk, a nice beta man who had been the store’s proprietor for as long as Kenma could remember (and he quite liked him too, for when Kenma was a child, he’d often slip the boy a sweet lollie when mother wasn’t looking).

Kenma made his way through the store, passed the apothecary with its elixirs and toiletries, all the way to the back where the consumables were. After a moment of searching, Kenma spotted the cheese the scullery cook had requested, wrapped in cloth on the highest shelf. Kenma's mouth slanted in a grimace. He took a quick look around him, hoping to find a footstool amongst the barrels of salted meat and crates of fruit, but his search proved futile. Sighing quietly, he grasped his basket in one hand and with the other, reached for the cheese. His fingers could barely graze the bottom of the absurdly high shelf and to his chagrin, a taller being easily reached up and grabbed the wedge of cheese. Kenma, frustrated and feeling a fool, pivoted to the left to confront the person.

"Excuse me-" he started, but quickly lost his courage.

Kuro stood in front of him with a knowing smile. He looked so much larger up close, with his long legs fitted in deep grey trousers paired with an old, woolen vest that stretched across the expanse of his chest, straining as he moved. There was a woodsy musk about him and Kenma wondered if that was his natural scent.

“Looks like we’re both in search of the same thing,” Kuro spoke, his voice a deep timber with just a hint of bemusement. Kenma felt blood rapidly rushing to the apples of his cheeks.

“You-“ Kenma struggled to keep himself composed. “You can have it.”

Kuro’s eyes twinkled and he clapped Kenma on the ruddy part of his shoulder, jostling him. His thumb grazed the exposed skin of Kenma’s chest for a single moment but it stirred something deep inside the omega; some sort of ancient and primal _yearning_.

“I jest,” he said teasingly, bypassing pleasantries and simply reaching over to put the cheese into Kenma’s basket. “I saw you struggling and thought I could help.”

Kenma nodded, feeling his heartbeat catch in his throat. “Thank you,” he murmured.

Kuro gave a shrug. “No problem,” and started to move for the front of the store, but not before he called out behind him, “See you later!”

The rest of Kenma’s errands were a quick affair and his walk home was done in routine, Kenma barely registering where he was going as his footfalls knew the way home by heart – all the while stroking the delicate skin at his collarbone, feeling the ghost of Kuro’s touch.

“See you later,” he murmured, echoing the alpha’s farewell.

As it were, later would come sooner than he realized.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone ask for gratuitous world-building? _No!_  
As that what I delivered? _Yes!_
> 
> I think I just have to go with shorter chapters for this fic; if not, I'm never gonna finish :/ And I promiiiiise there will be more Kuro next chapter ok I just wanted to make Kenma pine a lil bit. And thank you for all the kudos and comments! You guys are great :'-)


	3. III.

Kenma found himself daydreaming more often. His days were sprinkled with quiet yet intrusive thoughts of Kuro. On his midday walks, he'd wonder where Kuro lived, perhaps in one of the small, dilapidated apartment buildings on the outskirts of town. He'd be cooped up into a single spaced-room with all his family, a humble place to eat and sleep. Or while he had his afternoon tea, Kenma mused over how Kuro would take his, with two cubes of sugar and a dash of milk. Or maybe he was a coffee drinker who preferred a strong, black mug of it in the morning, his full lips pressed to the edge of the cup – sipping his morning coffee whilst reading the daily paper.

Kenma wondered if Kuro was a morning person or not. If the alpha liked his eggs with the gold yolk a little runny or done into scrambled curds. He imagined how Kuro would spend his days, tilling in the farm fields or taking up work in the next town over. Kenma's thoughts ran away from him, wandering into a world where his life was twined with Kuro's. Inextricable and sweet, his fantasies never wandered below the waistband, although no one would blame him if they did. 

Koushi had gone into heat the past month. It was a hushed yet hectic affair. He had been pulled from etiquette lessons and confined to his family's manor for almost two weeks. It may have been a bit excessive, but an omega's first heat was always an important milestone in their life. It meant he was of age now – ripened like a succulent peach, ready to be courted and married and most importantly, _mated._

Once Koushi had recovered fully, no longer stricken with heat-sickness, he had been able to join the other omegas for tea. Mid-afternoon light streamed into the conservatory of Keiji's manor; it was beautiful and airy, with the bay front windows and steeply pitched roof detailed in white trimming. It made for a cozy lounge area where guests could gather, with beautiful foliage and exotic plants tucked into ceramic pots. The conservatory was carefully curated by the lady of the manor – Keiji's mother, a male omega whom had passed his coloring on to his omega son. With inky dark lashes and a head of soft black curls, Keiji looked the spitting image of his mother. 

The omegas sat themselves around a large, white-clothed table. An assortment of light foods were available, stacked high upon multi-tiered cake stands; savory bits and finger sandwiches on the bottom, scones with jams and cream in the middle, and of course, sweets at the top. A hot pot of tea was set aside with sugar and cream while on the other end of the table sat a service for hot chocolate, rich and steaming. 

The omegas poured themselves their drinks and sorted out the food, talking amongst themselves. 

"How was it?" Keiji asked quietly, spooning a cube of sugar into his Earl Gray. The question was directed at Koushi, of course.

The other omega pursed his lips, brows creased in contemplation. "Going through a heat is intense. It was like I had a fever but a hundred times that. My body didn't feel right for ages - even now, I don't feel the same."

Kenma took a small bite of a sugar cake as he listened. He saw that Shouyou's eyes shone with unbridled curiosity, so many unspoken questions already forming on his lips.

"How'd it feel? Did it feel good?" Shouyou asked unabashedly. Kenma was fond of Shouyou, loved him even, but he knew tact was not a quality his best friend possessed. From the time they were babes, omegas were taught that heats were for creating children, to sire an heir. It was spoken of in such a sterile way, as if simply being in a room with an alpha could produce a pregnant mate. All of the more unsavory aspects were swept under the rug – it didn't quite make for polite conversation.

Koushi's cheeks blossomed a deep pink and he twitched, his slim fingers drumming against the side of his teacup. "No, not really. It was like I was on fire, but the fire was within. I felt terribly empty, like something was missing." A knot, everyone knew, was the unspoken "something."

"I don't want to go through it again," Koushi frowned, picking apart a cucumber sandwich with deft fingers, ripping it into smaller bites and popping a piece into his mouth.

"Maybe Daichi can help you next time?" Hinata offered, to which Koushi choked on his sandwich and Kenma's shoulders shook as he attempted to stifle his laughter.

"Perhaps," Keiji smirked knowingly, taking a sip of his tea.

* * *

Like a chain reaction, Hinata was the next to have his heat. It happened just a week later. The first of his symptoms had manifested in lethargy, so unlike the little omega as he moped about his home, not even wanting to meet his friends in town. Instead, Kenma had come to visit him at his manor, finding him buried under a nest of blankets and pillows piled onto his canopied bed.

"Shouyou, come out please," Kenma said, perched at his bedside. 

He heard a grumble come from beneath one of the blankets but saw no movement. Kenma began to dig through the pile, searching for a pale limb or a tuft of orange hair when he came across a white square of fabric. He pulled it loose, ready to throw it to the side when a bit of dark blue stitching caught his eye.

"What's this? A handkerchief?" he murmured, turning it over in his hands. 

Shouyou suddenly emerged from his burrow, looking frantic. "Give it back!" he shouted, grabbing at Kenma who strategically held the handkerchief out of his reach.

Kenma's nose crinkled, recognizing the faint scent of mint. "Is this Tobio's?"

"No!" Shouyou squeaked.

"But it has his initials?" Kenma pointed to one of the corners, an elegant "KT" stitched into the fabric.

Shouyou lunged with more tenacity this time, managing to procure the handkerchief and shuffling back into his nest with the crumpled fabric clutched to his chest. He mumbled something unintelligible under his breath, knuckles white with how fervently he held the small token.

Gently, Kenma touched Shouyou’s wrist, taking stock of his overly-sensitive and warm skin, the flush of his cheeks, and the strange new scent that permeated the air. It was seemingly innocuous, akin to a well-warmed bakery – a homey smell that was comforting but not overtly sweet. With a sharp breath, Kenma realized that Shouyou smelled _fertile_. His nesting should have been a dead give-away, but Kenma had never seen such peculiar behavior.

“You're going into heat soon,” he said with a sympathetic frown, wrapping a hand around Shouyou's wrist and squeezing gently. He didn't often show affection, but he could feel a slight tremble under his touch, and he hated seeing his friend so anxious. 

Shouyou nodded resolutely – he must’ve known for some time now. How could he not? Cooped up in his home with the curtains drawn and sleeping away the days, his body readying himself for the ordeal ahead of him. Shouyou sighed, leaning into Kenma with glassy and dazed eyes, resigned to his fate. 

* * *

Kenma had far more time to himself now. His friends either seemed to be going through heat, recovering from it, or busying themselves with their prospective courtships. It was dizzying to see how fast his circumstances could change in such a short time. He often missed the company of his friends, longing for Koushi's motherly tendencies and Shouyou with all his antics. He was familiar with a fair amount of the young alphas in town but would feel sorely out of place in their company.

Instead, Kenma tried to occupy his time in other ways. Sometimes he'd have an etiquette lesson or two, but they were few and far between during the summer months. He already knew enough about home-making and how to properly present as a well-bred omega, crossing his legs at the ankle and _not_ the knee. He had been taught to play the piano and was quite good at it too, but never found enough interest to learn more than a handful of songs. In theory, he knew how to keep a good home and how to welcome guests despite his perpetual state of fretfulness. Such lessons were second nature, coming to him as easily as breathing.

But he wasn't fond of needlework (how many scarves could he honestly knit in one week?) and despite his internal insistence, he knew he wasn't the best of cooks. He tried to improve his hand at it, visiting the servants in the scullery for instruction. While he knew his way around the kitchen with its large ice boxes and cast-iron oven, the cooking lessons were sorely remiss. Just last week he had burnt a perfectly good soufflé and had shuffled out of the scullery with his head hung low. 

There was only so much that could be done in the manor. It was tedious, these mind-numbing, shapeless days that bled into weeks. He itched to be free from it all, and the only respite he was able to find was within the quiet woods of town. 

Yearning to break the spell of monotony, he began to venture into the woods more often. Once a frightful place with looming, dark trees and hidden beasts, he had become accustomed to its shifting nature. The quick-footed foxes and hidden deer usually rushed away, wanting to be left alone. But as Kenma had become familiar with the forest over the years, he had learned the foreground and how to tread lightly. He knew how to step so that fallen branches went undisturbed and unsnapped. Navigating the woods came much easier, his feet padding against the soft moist dirt while bypassing clusters of capped mushrooms and creeping vines.

For the most part, he could make his own way and knew the general direction of things. In search of the creek, Kenma walked east through the woods until he crossed a gnarled, ancient tree that looked so heavy with foliage that it sloped to the floor. From there, the dense woods began to thin until he arrived at a small but verdant meadow. Often times he'd enjoy its lush greenery, a blanket laid out as he sipped his tea and braided wildflowers into long, fragrant ropes. In the distance, he spotted a patch of meadow that had recently been touched, the grass there withered and padded down. Briefly, he wondered if a doe and her babe had decided to curl up and rest there awhile.

Kenma made his way passed the clearing, humming a small tune to himself with his basket looped under his arm. Eventually, the faint trickling of the creek could be heard and one could smell the fresh clay that sat along its banks. Kenma felt relief wash over him, as the trek to his favorite reading spot was quite a journey and his feet ached from the lengthy hike.

Just a stone's throw away, the woods seemed to open up for him as congratulations. _Here you are, _it seemed to whisper as he made his way near the water, following the gentle curve of its bend until he spotted a soft spot of grass where he could lay his things. He pulled out an old blanket and snapped it open, allowing it to billow for a moment before he laid it upon the ground. The little omega quickly made himself comfortable, taking out a thermos of tea and a slightly weathered novel that had been gifted to him.

He flipped through the onion-skinned pages, yellowed from time and use. As he read, his fingers skimmed annotations made by the book's previous owner, the stubborn black ink having bled through the paper. Kenma reveled in these quiet afternoons, whisked away into another world as he read.

The sun was still high in the sky when Kenma stretched his arms above his head, yawning long and wistful. His eyes felt as heavy as logs and soon enough, the words of the book began to blur as he drifted off into a fitful slumber.

Curled up on his blanket, the small omega dreamt of warm hands and wild, black hair. His nocturnal visions were always fleeting, and he was never quite able to touch the alpha, stumbling after him like a hopelessly lost pup. It made him whine a pitiful sound high in his throat because even in his dreams, Kenma was acutely aware of how lonesome he was. It loomed over him like a cold, inescapable shadow and he so longed for someone to be the warmth at his side.

Eventually an earthy, familiar scent gentled him and when he next awoke, Kuro was there. Sat criss-cross on Kenma’s threadbare blanket, he had the omega's book in hand, thumbing through the pages. His face was tilted towards the sun, bathed in all of that honey, golden light.

Kenma smiled, reaching out to touch the alpha at last, fingers grazed against the skin his knee. "Kuro," he whispered reverently, wishing to be with him longer. Dreams were such finicky things and he had no idea how long this one would last.

"Ah," Kuro glanced down at him, head slightly tilted. "You're finally awake. And it seems you remembered my name."

Kuro's lips were a lovely slash of peach, hitched up into a knowing smile. Kenma tugged his hand away, senses sharpening as he faintly heard the quiet garble of the creek and the incessant hum of summer cicadas. It seemed that he had left his slumber moments ago, and this – _this _was real.

"What are you doing here?" the words came out rushed as he sat up, his heart fluttering so fast he could feel an ache blossom in his chest.

The alpha shrugged, looking to the creek. "Maybe an hour? Maybe less? I'm not entirely sure." Kuro leaned back on his forearms and straightened out his legs, the length of his torso a lean, strong line. "And what about you – what are you doing here?"

Kenma frowned, immediately feeling defensive. Ever since he had been a little boy, this had been _his _woods, _his_ creek. Why should he have to explain himself? "I always come here," he snapped.

The alpha hummed in acknowledgement.

"I found this place earlier in the summer, and I come when I need to get away. It’s beautiful.” He studied Kenma curiously. “Does anyone else know about it?”

Kenma shook his head, “Not that I know of,” and quickly added, “but I prefer it that way.”

Kuro chuckled, sensing Kenma’s unease “Well, I suppose I’m intruding. I hope you don’t mind if I come around sometimes. I need a break from Bokuto every now and then,” he said half jesting, half serious.

Kenma shifted where he sat, uncomfortable with this unfamiliar companionship. The woods and the creek and the meadow had been his, undisturbed for years. And like a petulant child, he felt reluctant to share it. 

“It’s not like I can stop you,” he said, words stilted and unsure. Kenma studied the grass, plucking a blade from the ground out of nervousness perhaps. He didn’t know what else to do with himself.

Kuro nodded, an unspoken thank you hanging in the air. For the rest of the day, they sat in a relatively companionable silence, Kuro snoozing in the shade as Kenma quietly read his book.

That afternoon would be the first of many. 

* * *

It seemed that whenever Kenma was beside the creek, Kuro would be there waiting for him or would come traipsing through the woods not an hour later. Most of the time, he had nothing but the clothes on his back and a story to share. They two made simple conversation, their afternoons filled with Kuro’s ramblings.

He spoke little of his family and mostly of his friends. It was both entertaining and concerning to hear all of the dumb and reckless things the young alphas got up to in their idle time. According to Kuro, just last week they had gone cliff diving on the river. Twenty-five feet above the water, Kuro had said, eyes glittering in memory.

And as Kuro talked, Kenma would sometimes nibble on the snacks he’d brought. It was usually just simple foods, perhaps a wedge of cheese and a bundle of strawberries. But as they spent more time together, Kenma had noticed Kuro’s eyes lingering on his lips as he ate. And it occurred to Kenma – the alpha was probably hungry and how incredibly _rude_ it was to eat in front of a guest but not have anything to offer (if she’d known, his governess would’ve chastised him for his lack of manners). From then on, he began to pack more snacks – sometimes even meals when he could. Without being prompted, Kenma would give Kuro his own share, wrapped neatly in white cloth and secured with twine.

He’d watch as Kuro scarfed down a concoction of cold fish and rice. The alpha ate ravenously, devouring whatever he had like it was his last meal, elbows askew and maw full of food as he talked. It was a worrisome thought that perhaps the alpha didn't have enough to eat at home. Kenma took extra care to keep him fed, a strange pool of warmth in his belly from the foreign feeling of being needed. 

It was easy to fall into a routine, their days a hazy blur. Kenma wasn't sure why he enjoyed the alpha's company so much – Kuro could be loud and brash, hovering too close at times. He was a smart ass with a snide remark for everything and his manners bordered on terrible. It was obvious he hadn't had a formal education but even so, there was just something about him that was so utterly endearing. 

Kenma often watched fondly as the alpha skipped stones on the sparkling, shifting waters of the creek, peeking from just above the hardback of his novels. With bent knees and a level hand, Kuro could whisk the stones across the water, skipping them along the water's surface in short bursts, consistently trying to outdo his personal best. One day, Kuro suddenly caught Kenma's gaze, looking behind his shoulder with a Cheshire grin. 

"Why don't you ever join me?" he called out, making his way out of the water. He swiftly tugged his shirt off and used it to wipe the sweat from his brow. It was an especially humid day, and although Kenma had seen glimpses of the alpha's torso peeking from beneath his shirt, he had never seen so much skin before.

"I don't like getting dirty," he said matter-of-factly, trying to ignore Kuro as he sprawled out onto the blanket, skin glistening with perspiration. 

“It's so damn hot,” Kuro whined, rolling over, legs knocking against Kenma’s. “I don't know how you can stand having your long hair down in this heat.” 

True, it was a nuisance that the sweltering heat often matted Kenma’s long hair to the back of his neck, sticky with sweat. But what was even more of a nuisance was having it up, exposing the pallid unmarked column of his neck. He knew it had the potential to draw attention, as if begging to flaunt his coveted, unmated status. The one time he had pulled his hair up into a ribbon, an alpha had approached him, muttering something about what a pretty little omega he was. What an obedient bride he could be. 

Kenma always shuddered at the memory.

“Let me braid it for you,” Kuro offered suddenly, propping himself up on his elbows. “I do it all the time for my little sister.” 

Kenma couldn't help the furrowing of his brows as he stared at Kuro. He had never talked about having a sister. “Really?” he asked in a small voice. 

“Yeah, I help her get ready in the morning,” Kuro said, sitting up. “I wasn't very good with helping her at first but I'm pretty decent now.” 

Kenma’s heart softened at the confession. Not only was Kuro a big brother, but he was a _caring _one. Not many alphas would have the patience for something as trivial as getting a child ready in the morning – a task usually delegated to omegas or their nannies. 

“Alright,” Kenma said before he could stop himself. “Just don't tug at my head.”

It may have been foolish, but Kenma trusted Kuro to not do anything inappropriate. To not scent him or take advantage of the situation like he knew how others would’ve. He had always been a gentleman around Kenma and if he truly wanted to do anything nefarious, there had been numerous times when Kenma had been asleep, completely exposed. And not once had the alpha touched him.

Kuro began, working steadily and patiently. Kenma’s hair had gone unchecked for the better half of the year, hanging like a straight, blond curtain to the middle of his back. Behind him, Kuro began to gather hair from either side of his head. Deft fingers wove the locks together into tight, neat ropes. Before long, he had finished, securing the braid with a bit of twine. 

“Don't get up yet,” Kuro said sternly.

Kenma could hear behind him; the alpha had gone off somewhere but before Kenna even had a chance to question where, Kuro was back. He began gently tucking something small into the divots of the braid, careful to not tug any hairs astray. 

“What is that?” Kenma asked, turning around once Kuro had finished. 

He gently felt for the braid, fingers brushing against soft petals. Kuro smiled, almost sheepishly.

“They're wildflowers from the forest – mainly primrose. I thought it would add a nice touch.”

Kenma felt himself blush, the kind gesture stirring something lovely and intimate in his chest. 

“Do I look okay?” Kenma asked, acutely aware of how open and vulnerable he suddenly felt. 

With hair no longer there to obscure his features, Kuro could gaze upon the gentle slope of the omega’s neck and the soft curve of his heart-shaped face. Kenma fidgeted, eyes light with an amber richness, framed by lashes like golden fronds in the muted sunlight. 

Kuro resisted the urge to reach out and reassure the small omega that _yes_, he looked okay. _More _than just okay.

Instead, he simply murmured, “It suits you. Truly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, it's ya girl. With inconsistent updating _and_ word count! lol
> 
> But no, honestly it took me multiple weeks and many edits to get this up. I didn't even fit everything I wanted to in this chapter - it was just getting absurdly long but I was determined to get Kuro up in here, ya know? Oh and I added more tags, so check that out if you'd like.
> 
> Hoped you liked the absurd Hozier lyrics-esque fluff in the woods~

**Author's Note:**

> High five to the ten people who still ship Kuroken! And a gold star to those who are actually interested in this very historically niche specific porn!! I appreciate all three of you! Lol, kidding.
> 
> Anyways, feedback and comments are always appreciated (:


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